


And She Would Quote Cocteau

by ester_inc



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Mild Painplay, Restraints, Safety & Sanity Optional, mild bloodplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 10:43:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3407660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ester_inc/pseuds/ester_inc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Root seems to think a remote cabin in the middle of frozen nowhere is the perfect place to lie low for a week. Shaw is not convinced.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And She Would Quote Cocteau

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote most of this before I'd seen 4x10, at which point I still thought I might be able to make this canon compliant. Haha. Ha... ha. Never mind.
> 
> The title is from a poem by Lawrence Ferlinghetti. _"I feel there is an angel in me" she'd say "whom I am constantly shocking"_

"I'm freezing," Shaw said. She put her gloved hands in her coat pockets, making no move to help Root lift their bags out of the trunk of the rental car.

"Poor baby," Root said in a sweetly grating tone that made Shaw want to punch things. Kinda. Maybe. Not as much as it used to, and wasn't that a tragedy. "Once we get inside, I'll make sure to warm you right up."

Root's smile was as flirtatious as it was familiar, and then she ruined it by tossing one of the duffel bags at Shaw, who was just barely fast enough to snatch her hands out of her pockets and catch it. 

Pointedly ignoring Shaw's unimpressed look, Root closed the trunk and picked up the other two bags. Why they needed three bags in the first place when they had no weapons to speak of, Shaw would never know. No one needed three duffels full of clothes for a few days at a remote cabin in the woods. She told Root as much.

"You make it sound more like a setup for a horror movie than a romantic getaway," Root said, starting toward the cabin, snow crunching under her boots.

"With our luck?" Shaw wondered under her breath as she followed, ignoring the latter part of the sentence, because her idea of a romantic getaway this was not. Root had insisted the Machine had picked the location, but Shaw had doubts. They were supposed to lay low for a week, no specific mission in sight, and she was reasonably sure the Machine actually liked her; _she_ would have chosen somewhere warmer.

Running into a werewolf or two would probably be a step up, actually. 

"I know you'd rather be punching people than stuck in the middle of nowhere," Root said, like she'd read Shaw's mind. She dropped her bags on the porch and patted her pockets for the key. "I'll do my best to incorporate that element into our next holiday, I promise, but for now --"

"I don't do holidays," Shaw said, regretting it when Root stopped looking for the key and turned to her with an expression Shaw had a particular distaste for. Root might as well have said 'you're adorable' out loud, for all the difference it made. 

Root reached out to adjust the black knit cap Shaw was wearing. "For now," she repeated, her voice low and teasing, "I'll just have to find other ways to keep you busy."

Which, frozen hellscape or not, Shaw had to admit sounded promising.

-

The cabin, at least, was large and warm, especially once they got the fire going, and the snow-covered landscape was infinitely more tolerable when seen through double-pane windows. The cabin was on a hillside overlooking a lake, and in the fading light of the afternoon, Shaw found herself looking at the expanse of the frozen water, a thin layer of powdery snow dancing on the ice where the wind got hold of it. 

"It's peaceful, isn't it?" Root made it sound like that was a good thing. 

She came to stand behind Shaw, skimming her fingers across the small of Shaw's back before settling a hand on her hip. 

Shaw thought of shrugging off the touch, but truth was, she liked it. Root touched her casually, like it was something she wanted, like she had the right to it, but not like she expected anything from Shaw in return. It was that last one which, perversely, made Shaw wish she could give Root more than she knew she was capable of.

"Whatever." She didn't lean into the touch, but she didn't pull away, either. That was as far as her tolerance for casual intimacy usually went.

Far from being put off, Root leaned in, resting her cheek against Shaw's hair. Shaw didn't need to look to know she was smiling.

-

Shaw knew how to take people apart and how to put them back together.

Sometimes, when she looked at Root, it was all she could think about, all she could see. She knew better than most how breakable people were, just like she knew that at the end of the day, Root was as human as the rest of them. She'd seen her bleed, and falter, and doubt.

And yet, some part of her, deep down, thought of Root as invincible. Untouchable. She had a god looking out for her, and now Shaw as well. Nothing would happen to her that could not be mended and made better. Shaw would die before she allowed anyone to prove her wrong.

"What are you thinking?" Root wanted to know.

"Nothing," Shaw said, expressionless, because she might be willing to die for Root, but she wasn't going to admit it out loud. She was pretty sure Root knew, anyway.

"Didn't seem like nothing." Root ran her hands down Shaw's arms. Her fingers folded like manacles around Shaw's wrists. "You had that look on your face."

"I only ever have one look," Shaw said, flexing her arms slightly so she could feel Root tightening her hold.

Root hummed, noncommittal. "If you say so." She spun Shaw around, letting her wrists go in favor of grabbing a hold of her hair, pulling back on it until Shaw was looking up at her, uncomfortable with the angle her head was forced to stay at. "Wanna play?" Root asked, sweet and hungry in equal measures. "I brought zip ties."

"I thought you'd never ask," Shaw said, and smiled, because this much she could give.

-

"I forget," Root said as she slipped the zip ties around Shaw's wrists. "Is this the part where I ask for your safeword?"

Shaw rolled her eyes. "If I wanted safe, sane and consensual, I wouldn't be with you."

Root smiled, syrupy, and tightened the thin plastic holding Shaw in place. "You always know just what to say to make a gal feel appreciated."

"Yeah, yeah. Get on with it."

"I live to oblige," Root said. She pulled out a knife, grabbed the hem of Shaw's shirt and cut through the fabric, tearing it open.

"You planning on ruining all my clothes?" Shaw asked. She didn't particularly care. She just needed to distract herself from the lazy heat already gathering in her abdomen, pooling down between her legs. "Is that why we have so many bags?"

"You'll have to wait and see," Root said, brushing her thumb over the skin just below Shaw's navel. She pressed the tip of the knife to the same spot, lightly, ever so lightly, and trailed it upward.

The blade was narrow, cold and sharp. Shaw kept still as it traveled up. She breathed out, slow, as the knife stopped, coming to rest against her bra. With a twist of her wrist, Root cut through the center front. 

The air felt cool against Shaw's exposed skin, her nipples hardening to a peak, and she shifted under Root's weight, restless.

"Impatient," Root said, bending down to press a lingering kiss to Shaw's sternum, her hair falling down over Shaw's breasts.

Shaw's stomach trembled with the effort not to squirm. "I'd be patient if you'd just --"

She was cut off by a sharp, thin line of fire over her thoracic diaphragm, and she arched into it. Root's halfhearted admonishment was countered by the way she pushed her thumb against the long, shallow wound, then ducked her head and ran her tongue over it, licking away the blood. She came up to hover over Shaw, grinning, pleased.

Shaw surged up and caught Root's mouth, ungentle, biting into Root's lower lip. She captured the hungry sound that escaped from Root, but yielded when Root pressed her back to the mattress, the taste of her own blood thick on her tongue.

"Impatient," Root said again, a teasing, singsong quality to her voice.

Shaw huffed in annoyance and looked at the ceiling. Root wanted patience? Root would fucking get patience. Shaw was _unaffected_ , that's how patient she was.

The sting of Root's mouth against the shallow wound startled a breath out of Shaw, her arms tensing against the restraints before she caught herself. She could feel Root smiling against her skin.

Root kissed her way down, and there was the knife again, cutting through the fabric of Shaw's pants.

"There are cheaper and easier ways to undress people," Shaw said, trying to hold on to her annoyance as Root peeled off her clothes, leaving her with nothing but the ruins of her shirt and bra. 

"Where's the fun in that?" Root wondered, briefly pressing the wicked-sweet curve of her mouth against the inside of Shaw's thigh, high up, near her knee. She dropped the knife on the sheets and took off her own clothes. She was matter of fact about it, not attempting to be sensual or showy, but there was something captivating about the way her body twisted and moved, graceful and strong.

Shaw tried to lick moisture back to her lips. Screw patience, screw unaffected, and screw Root.

"Are we done with foreplay yet? If this takes any longer, I'll take care of it myself."

Root glanced at Shaw's wrists with raised eyebrows, amused, and ran the backs of her fingers down the insides of Shaw's thighs. Her touch was too light and far away. "Say please."

Shaw bared her teeth in something approaching a smile. "Please," she said, because it was faster than getting hold of the knife.

Root hummed, her touch becoming firmer, her hands sliding down, forcing Shaw's legs apart. Shaw resisted, relaxing when Root's fingers dug into her thighs, cruel and insistent, leaving marks.

"Have I been too nice?" Root asked, one of her hands sliding under Shaw and hefting her hips up a little, steady and confident. She ran her free hand over Shaw's inner thigh again, but it wasn't teasing this time. Red lines followed in the wake of Root's nails, and Shaw shivered. "You're so lovely when you squirm," Root said. "I get carried away."

Shaw opened her mouth, only to bite down on a yelp when Root swiped her thumb over her clit, hard. Slower, she slid the thumb down, up and down and around, until Shaw was panting, her hands clenching and unclenching in their restraints. Sweat gathered at the hollow of her throat.

"Perfect," Root murmured. She lowered her head until her mouth was _so close_ to where Shaw wanted it, and stayed like that for a long, suspended moment, breathing in slow, like there was nowhere else she'd rather be.

Shaw flushed, her fingers trembling and her insides clenching. "Root," she said, the name coming out broken and wrong, a plea more sincere and a confession more genuine than she was comfortable with. Her heart felt heavy with blood.

Root said something Shaw didn't quite catch -- it was too reverent to be a curse -- and then said nothing at all, her lips and teeth and tongue all greedy against Shaw, lapping up her wetness, sucking on her clit, fucking her, making her tremble and cry out and come, holding her up, bringing her down, and starting all over again. It went on until Shaw was nothing but dead weight hanging between Root and the restraints. She was sore and wrung out, her whole body weak with exertion. 

When Root surfaced, her chin was wet, her lips swollen and her eyes dark. She pressed messy kisses on Shaw's stomach on her breasts, on her open, lax mouth, climbing up until she was straddling Shaw's waist. She braced herself on the headboard, slid a hand between her legs and came before Shaw could scrape her brain back into shape.

"I could have done that," Shaw said, looking up at Root, who still had her head tilted back and her eyes closed, her chest heaving. She looked like sin. She looked like something Shaw could keep.

Slowly, Root opened her eyes and tilted her head. Already there was a familiar smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Could you?"

Shaw narrowed her eyes at the perceived challenge and pointedly tugged at her wrists.

"Oh, if you insist," Root said, but instead of just cutting Shaw free, she pressed the knife into her hand and fell onto the bed in a lazy sprawl, leaving Shaw to do all the work.

"Typical," Shaw muttered as she flipped the knife in her hand. After she got through the first zip tie, the second took no time at all. She threw the knife away, ignoring the sound of it embedding itself into a wall.

"Honestly, Sameen," Root said. "I'm paying for this place."

"Honestly, Root," Shaw said, stubbornly pushing herself up and shrugging out of what remained of her ruined clothes. "Shut up."

She moved to make a space for herself between Root's legs, and Root reached down to run a hand through her hair, gentle until the moment Shaw got her mouth on her. Root twisted Shaw's hair around her hand, using her grip to pull and push and guide her. It hurt like a bitch, and something inside Shaw immediately responded to it. She didn't think she was capable of another orgasm, but the distant, faintly uncomfortable throb of arousal was not unwelcome.

She used her lips and tongue, chasing Root's taste and bringing her to climax once, twice, and then Root pulled her off, forcing her to stop or risk losing hair. Shaw was reluctant to obey, but at least Root now looked closer to the wreck Shaw still felt like. 

Root untangled her hand with more care than was necessary, and Shaw lay down next to her, feeling done in. A patch of her scalp felt tender, and when she stretched, the long, shallow wound on her torso stung a little. Her lips were as swollen as her clit, and she was sore all over. She shifted to her side, facing Root but not touching her.

"Let's do that again when I wake up," she said.

Root turned to look at her, quiet for a moment. "We can do whatever you want, sweetie." 

Shaw closed her eyes. It didn't help. "Stop staring."

"I'm not staring," Root said. "I'm admiring."

"You're staring," Shaw said. "And I'm trying to sleep." 

The mattress shifted. "Turn over," Root said, and Shaw opened her eyes just so she could give her a suspicious look.

"Turn over, Sameen," Root repeated, shaking out a quilted blanket that had been folded over the end of the bed.

Shaw let out a put-upon sigh but did as she was told. Root moved closer to her and spread the blanket over them both. 

"I wouldn't want you to get cold," Root said, curving her body around Shaw. Her hand sneaked over Shaw's waist and found her wrist, gently feeling out the reddened skin before encircling it loosely with her fingers.

Shaw didn't much care for cuddling or spooning or whatever the hell this was, but right now -- 

It wasn't bad.

"I'm not cold," Shaw said, and meant it.


End file.
